Lullabye
by A Poisoned Aishiteru
Summary: We buried them underneath the willow. Their private sanctuary that only they could cherish. RoyEd. Character deaths.


Hey everyone, long time no see. (:

So I've been going through a little writing withdrawal the last several weeks. I think I misplaced my muse. Anyways, I'm finally getting back into the swing of things and will be updating my other stories soon. Until then, here's a little one-shot I figured while listening to a song.

Oh, and the title is spelt that way on purpose. (:

**A/N: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. I also don't own the song used.**

**Warnings: Character deaths, mentioning of death and hard drinking**

Based off the song _'Whiskey Lullaby' by Brad Paisley_.

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**'Lullabye'**

We buried him beneath the willow, where they had just met, I suspected. No, I knew. I remember that day, when he told me of this special place that had meant so much to them. It was their own private sanctuary, some place that held happy memories. For the short time they could experience it.

I guess it all fell apart once he went to war. It was inevitable, and my brother knew it would happen when he got into the relationship with the military man. They didn't know how long he would be gone, but my brother was devastated. I could recall every day from the back of my mind of that time. He cried the first several weeks, and went into the depression that could only be solved through the amber-colored liquid.

I blocked the memory of how much he consumed a night from my mind, because I knew it would only depress me more. It began to affect him even more, as the months and years passed. His golden eyes lost their spark and the glare of his blonde hair soon paled to a shade I was sure he would never recover.

I remember the time he came home one night. It had been about a year and a half since his love was shipped into the war, and I was confused by the sudden glow in his tired eyes. He said he had found someone, a person to replace his love until he returned.

I met the man a few times, and it didn't surprise me that he looked almost identical to my brother's lover. He was kind to my brother, which was all I asked, though it still striked me odd, about the priority he had given to this stranger he was going out with.

My brother had replied, "Just until he gets back."

And he came back all right, but right into the house to find my brother and said other man engaging in a soft kiss. My brother had been giving a last one to say goodbye, since he couldn't love the man like his own fighting solider. And said man had walked right into said ceremony.

I can never express which one has scared me more: the look on my brother's face when his love broke up with him and stormed out or the look on his face when he heard of his death, two months later.

It wasn't a quick process, no matter how much the newspaper and columns tried to make me believe. My brother knew it wasn't either, when his former love was found amid broken glass and amber liquid sloshed all around him. It had been a picturesque painting of him, and how he would be found many a times whenever he would drink so much he felt weightless. My brother had tried to make up with his love many times, but it was no use. He had broken his heart, and even I knew it took time to heal.

But for his love, time was too slow. And the bottle that was handily ready was much quicker in stock.

My brother had given up the drinking when he found the replacement for his love, but once he heard the news of his death, he began again. He had some in the morning and before he went to bed, continuing all day in between. He had some before he attended his funeral, around the departed's family members that he knew were all muttering and talking about him, probably blaming him. They would never know how much he blamed on himself.

Two months later, we buried my brother beside his love underneath the willow. Myself and a few close friends were the only ones in attendant, as the priest spoke unheard words on his marked grave. The dirt was plowed neatly, as a few flowers gathered at the bottom of the cross marker. The wind was blowing slightly, alerting us of the new coming fall. It made the willow sway.

From the memories of my brother's life and his whiskey death, no matter how bad it sounds, I will always take his funeral as my prized possession. No one besides me will take the sight I saw, even if sometimes I just think I imagined it up. But I must believe in it, since it is my dearest hope that they united once again.

He had strode out from behind the willow, when I looked back over my shoulder for a last glance at their graves. At first it reeled me in shock, and I couldn't help but to dart at the thought of this being the replacement my brother held on to for several months, the man that helped initiate the breakup.

But he was in military attire. I thought his dark-as-night eyes had been looking at me at first, but turning my gaze slightly to my left, I understood immediately what I was seeing, for there was my brother. He looked as he did way back before his love left; like this was the last day they saw each other until the interrupted ceremony.

And they couldn't see me, as I saw them walk slowly to one another, before it turned into a placid run. My brother jumped into his arms, as they swung around in a welcoming hug.

I turned, knowing it was too private for me to watch, though my smile stayed. It was their sanctuary, where my brother was first asked out by his love. Even if they drank themselves to death over something as trivial of never being with their significant other, I knew it didn't matter anymore.

I didn't venture to the willow anymore after that. It wasn't my place to be, to step on the land that didn't belong to outside love. I knew my brother was undeniably happy, wherever he was, and that was all something a younger brother could ask for.

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Comments and reviews are appreciated and loved.

-Mazzie (:


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